


Dark Cathedral

by burymeonpluto



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: But Easily Read Into, Cute Aggression, Gen, Intended sovani, Post-Canon, Ship is Vague, Sora is Pure Sunshine, This is My Character Study on Vanitas, Vanitas is Destructive, mild body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 14:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19889170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burymeonpluto/pseuds/burymeonpluto
Summary: He's beautiful and perfect. Like undisturbed snow, or a delicate glass figurine. The urge to destroy something so pure and pristine is almost unbearable.Vanitas isn't quite sure what shape obsession would take, but with any luck, it looks just like this.





	Dark Cathedral

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this entire fic with Ludo’s ‘The Horror of Our Love’ in mind. That song is so Vanitas-coded I c oul dn ‘t s t o p

  
  
  
  
_He’s soft_.   
  
It’s all Vanitas can think as he watches Sora, playing with toys and traipsing orange-tinged buildings.  
  
When he’s being curt with Marluxia, he’s too soft. Gasping at lanterns and playing with children… When he’s fighting gigantic heartless and other monstrosities, he’s still too soft. Too merciful. His strikes are too clean and quick. There’s no passion behind them. No _rage_.  
  
But that’s not completely correct, either. Vanitas has seen Sora’s rage. It’s rare and fascinating. When the dark sludge of his own buried feelings breach the surface and drench him down to the bone marrow. From everything he’s heard and seen about Sora, he thought he’d be surprised, but he wasn’t. His speed and recklessness was familiar. Siphoning his own life force in exchange for power… As if Vanitas needed any more proof that they were connected.   
  
Ventus. The other part of himself. Curled up and slumbering beneath the shade of Sora’s heart.  
  
Of course he is. Vanitas didn’t need Xehanort to tell him where Ventus was. As soon as he took one glance at Sora, he knew. It was a face he knew well. Ventus must’ve made the connection with the boy just as his light was sputtering out. Without Sora, that light would’ve vanished, and Vanitas would never have any chance of becoming whole again.  
  
Did he ever have a chance?   
  
He studied that face for hours in the dull reflection of his helmet. When he wasn’t fighting, wasn’t pulled into the depths of sleep, he was staring into that face. The wild, untamed hair. Round cheeks and boyish disposition. Vanitas never thought it suited him. He wasn’t a boy—no more than a creature. But he stared into this face he was given. He learned every detail, every contortion it was capable of. Darkness flooded his eyes with gold, and he did everything besides scoop them out and rinse away everything they’ve ever seen.  
  
Vanitas knew. Even if he couldn’t feel Ventus sleeping inside—which he did, clear as day. Even without Xehanort’s confirmation. Vanitas didn’t need anyone to tell him. He saw Sora’s face and he already knew. _This is it_. It has to be him. The thread that haphazardly held him and Ventus together when they were both so close to unraveling. The feelings came later. The _certainty_ was instant.   
  
And Sora… he’s something else.  
  
Vanitas only has the vestiges of positivity left in him. The faraway echoes of whatever happiness Ventus might be overwhelmed with at any given time. To see Sora—Vanitas’s own face—smiling, laughing, goofing off and taking far too few things seriously, was a new kind of stunning. Jealousy and longing tore their way out of Vanitas with sharp claws and thorny vines. Emotions he doesn’t need but still bears the burden of their existence. Why is he stuck on the other side? Sora and Ventus get everything, and he’s left with nothing but a writhing mire of negativity. The aching void in his heart that only proves how much he’s missing. It’s not fair.  
  
His crime is existing, but if Vanitas had any say in it, he wouldn’t even be doing that much. He’d rather be swallowed up by Ventus’s light. Sora’s light. Even Xehanort’s dark plans. Someone please just let him dissolve into the shadows.  
  
He closes his eyes against the embers and smoke rising from the power plant below. Anger and fear and embarrassment and grief crash back into him with each fallen unversed. Slain by Sora’s blade. This pain is nothing.  
  
He ignores the moisture stinging in his eyes.  
  
It’s _nothing_.  
  
If he could just drown, it would be easier.   
  
–  
  
Vanitas steps towards Sora, and the world is suspended on strings around them. Masked golden eyes tunnel through to Sora’s face, disguised by magic but clearly the same. He finds the fight and apprehension in those eyes. But where’s the drive? The recognition?  
  
“Vanitas.” It falls from Sora’s mouth in a voice that’s not his. The boy gasps.  
  
Ah. So Ventus is stirring after all.  
  
The connection is so strong. There’s a chain tethering his heart to Sora’s. Another to Ventus. It’s pulling them towards each other so fiercely he can’t stand it. It’s right there! He could take it! What does Xehanort know? Vanitas could end everything right here!  
  
His mind is nothing but white noise. Sora stumbles against his onslaught, keyblade knocked uselessly out of his grasp. He’s distracted. Surely he must feel it too?  
  
_Now!_  
  
Vanitas lifts his blade with numb, buzzing fingers. “Join your heart with mine!”  
  
Vanitas is restrained. The world becomes a blur. He lands face-down on the floor in an empty room of a world he doesn’t know.  
  
It didn’t work this time, either.   
  
The unversed rip him apart.  
  
-  
  
Vanitas watches Sora plummet from the apex of the mountain. How fitting for the trajectory of his destiny.  
  
Sora begins his climb again, so determined for a person he’s barely spoken to. Vanitas wracks his brain, but he can’t imagine anything logical that could motivate Sora to do such things. No, it must be emotion. Vanitas searches through that unbreakable connection, and finds something desperate and sad and _sinking_.   
  
He watches Sora fall from the peak a second time. It’s rather amusing, watching him flail.  
  
The soft snow breaks his fall. “We could do this a hundred times,” Sora mutters.  
  
Please do. Vanitas could watch this futility all day.  
  
–  
  
Vanitas forces the corner of his mouth upward with his finger. He tries to memorize the muscles used to hold the position, but as soon as he retracts his hand, the half-smile falls. Could it even be called a smile? Does twisting his lips into unnatural shapes count as real expressions? He doesn’t think so.  
  
The mask in his hand reflects his deadpan face. What good is a face if he can’t even use it properly?  
  
Oh. His mouth curls downward. A frown. A scowl. His eyes narrow into a glare. Of course. He glowers at his reflection. It’s an expression he’s familiar with.  
  
This is stupid. Trying to… forcibly contorting his face into a _smile_? With empty eyes like these? Who is he kidding?  
  
The mask trembles in his tightening grip. He’s seen the smile on his face. The laughter. The excitement. He’s seen it all on _Sora’s_ face. So why?   
  
He _knows_ Ventus feels warm happiness. He’s sensed the shadows cast upon him, just enough to notice but never hold for himself. It’s just as well, he’s only ever _seen_ the smile on a face that’s also his. It’s so bright and soft. It makes him squint to look directly at it. If only he could slice that smile right off of that face. Tear it from those lips and pick them apart. Listen to their secrets. Find out what it is he’s supposed to do.  
  
Are they as soft as they look? Sweet like ice cream?   
  
Vanitas watches his reflection as his tongue drags across dry, cracked lips. They taste like nothing but the dust of the Badlands.   
  
–  
  
The city is too loud to hear the actual words, but the scene before him is so clear and sickening. It’s just like the snowy mountaintop, but worse. That is a face Sora actually recognizes. What was his name again? Vanitas couldn’t be bothered to remember.  
  
Sora is fumbling. Scrambling. Desperately trying to keep his connection from unraveling. Even though he _knows_ that face is not the one of his friend. It’s nothing but a fake, twisted one. Sora knows that, but he’s still trying to forge that bond. Reinforce the imaginary one that he’s projected onto the fake. It’s pathetic.  
  
Vanitas can’t watch this annoying display anymore.   
  
–  
  
His chest is aching, but he doesn’t know why. It’s infuriating. It’s not a pain he recognizes. It’s more of an emptiness. A clawing hunger pang. He can’t identify it; can’t single it out. It’s not something he can leave to the unversed. He decides to hold onto it until he can decipher it. But time is running out.

This world has been twisted into a maze, and plunged between the crossroads of light and darkness. It’s been hidden from view for so long now. How overly complicated. Especially for such a straightforward man like Eraqus.

Aqua reverses the spell. That emptiness in his chest begins gnawing away at him.  
  
He shoves it all back inside. Appearances. That’s all that matters. Lead Sora down the destined path. At least, that’s what Xehanort says. What a boring old man.  
  
But Vanitas can’t say anything. He’s nothing but another cog in the machine. If he had his way, he’d let Sora take him. Body and all. Pummel him to smithereens. Let Sora’s calloused fingers rip him apart and watch disgust contort his face at what he discovers inside. Nothing but darkness. Ugliness and pain. Things Sora only vaguely understands. Bright hands like those have never touched such horrid things. They never will.  
  
Vanitas steels himself. The Land of Departure reconstructs itself around him, and he feels it. Ventus is here. It’s almost time.  
  
Appearances. Provocation. Nothing else matters now. It’s already too late.  
  
–  
  
It’s too late for anything. Vanitas feels his body tremble. He is meant to perish here. There’s no stopping it.

Ventus is too distracted by Aqua and Terra. He’s not fighting like he should. _Glaring_ like he should.  
  
What Vanitas wouldn’t give to snap that neck so it never looks away from him again. The bond between them is burning with sadness. For what exactly, Vanitas doesn’t know.   
  
Sora runs in with his keyblade raised and jaw set tight.  
  
Vanitas takes another swing at Ventus. It is quickly countered, and they’re both pushed back by the reverberating force. Sora appears at Ventus’s side. They charge at Vanitas with that same empty look in their eyes. Vanitas doesn’t understand.  
  
Sora is not a bright beacon of purity. He feels rage. He holds onto sorrow. And this place, the wasteland of Vanitas’s birth, should be where Sora stops holding back. Perhaps he does, but not for Vanitas. How can he still not feel the connection? He’s just as dense and hopeless as Ventus.  
  
Even now, in front of him, there’s no passion. He comes at Vanitas with the strikes of someone still uncertain. Mechanical determination.  
  
Vanitas’s hand tightens around the blade. The least Sora could do is fight him with purpose. With recognition in his eyes and a fire of adrenaline in his heart. That keyblade of his won’t even break Vanitas’s skin this way. Sora and Ventus chip away at him bit by bit. It’s not enough.  
  
He never deserved it, after all. He’s someone to be forgotten. Just pieces. His empty chest is aching. Flesh burns beneath his armor like an open, festering wound. His entire existence. Let his edges blur—  
  
The body perish—  
  
Shards lying scattered on the stained glass floor—  
  
_I need the other part of me._  
  
—a touch—a crash.  
  
No, no like this. It’s already too late. He can’t break.  
  
His vision splinters. Wires of decay envelop his body—his mask. His flesh begins dissolving into the dark. The glass shatters, and Vanitas is exposed with everything he’s ever stolen.   
  
The tether in his heart tugs hard, and painfully. Sora gasps. “Your face.”  
  
So he finally noticed, huh?  
  
But it’s not enough.  
  
Vanitas feels their sorrow as clear as his own. It _is_ his own. Just let him drown in it.  
  
They beg and plead. What for?  
  
“How much closer could I be?” he tries to smile. It doesn’t suit him. He’s not doing it right.   
  
His vision goes black. The delicate, all-over pressure of the abyss. It mutes and consumes everything. Vanitas stops breathing. He’s so tired.  
  
_Finally_ —  
  
\-   
  
  
  
.

  
  


.

  
  


.  
  
  
  
.  
  
  
  
.  
  
  
  
.  
  


never ending black

waves and currents

Nowhere. Floating in a pressure chamber of dark.

It crawls into his skin. It claims him as its own.

Echoes from a surface he’s too far down to see. No light reaches here. Only hints and reflections.

A ripple.

Relief and happiness.

Ventus.

  
A riptide.

Heart-shattering sorrow.

Sora.

His fear. His nervousness.

_Who am I, really…?  
  
_

His pain and his 

anger

and fear.

Sora!

  
_Show me your rage._

Fear.

It’s not enough.

How about

a push?

Hands and hearts connect. 

Here. Take it.

Black-red anger.

It’s overflowing. Spilling across them both and into the divide. 

The tether pulls taut.

It’s still—

Wait. His mind is hazy.  The bond. His body is still together.

_It’s not over._

Why can’t he just—?

His back touches solid ground, and the black of sleep swallows him whole.  
  
–  
  
The dark eats into his flesh. It burns like acid. An effervescent cradle. But his mind is swimming, his limbs too heavy to move. There’s no point. It’ll consume him soon. The dark puddles will rise and cover his face, pour into him, and dissolve him. It’s already too late.

T he bond tethered to his chest has gone slack. It’s too close to be pulled taut. Darkness laps at his edges like millions of gnashing teeth. He hears the tide shift, and black water slips over his chest. Soon, he’ll become the darkness, a shadow cast upon the ground and  swaddled in boundless light. He doesn’t move.  
  
The tether twitches. Decaying.  
  
No, it  _tugs_ . It pulls hard. His half-eaten heart is going to be ripped out of his chest.  
  
_“Vanitas!”_

Eyes and mouth and lungs open wide. Vanitas takes a vocal gasp for air as he lurches up out of the black water. He sits there panting into his shaking knees.  
  
Nothing. There’s nothing here. It’s only darkness. He didn’t expect any different. The only proof his eyes are open is the red tint of his armor. The only proof he’s alive is the sound of his deep, panicked gasps for breath.

He climbs onto unsteady legs and stares into the abyss. This weightless, sinking feeling… is sleep. Empty—

The bond tugs again. It _hurts_.  
  
“Vanitas!”

It’s something sharp and desperate and unhinged. It pulls him forward. Fear and sorrow slip in. He stumbles. The dark covers up to his ankles. The tugging is frantic and painful. A red speck crashes down in front of him, and the wave of impact sends the water out and away. Until it’s nothing but a puddle beneath his feet.  
  
Sora stands up straight. His face lights up with recognition. “Vanitas!” 

  
Mind and body halt.  
  
He’s running this way. “I found you!”  
  
No, he can’t be here. He _shouldn’t_ be here. This is no place for someone like Sora. There’s no way he’d ever understand it. “What are you doing here?” Vanitas spits.  
  
Sora doesn’t flinch at all. He smiles. That same face Vanitas has stared into for ages; that expression that he could never replicate. “Finishing what I started,” he says. “What about you? What are _you_ doing here?”

“What kind of stupid question is that? This is where I belong.”  
  
Sora shakes his head. “Not like this.” What is that supposed to mean? He extends a hand. “C’mon. Let’s go.”  
  
Vanitas does nothing but stare at that hand for a long time. “… Go where?”  
  
“Home.” That warm smile and soft, squinting eyes—Vanitas can’t breathe.  
  
“I don’t have one of those,” he coughs.  
  
“You do have a home,” Sora presses. “With me, and Ven. And Roxas. And Xion. We’re all connected. There’s no way any of us can break that bond.”  
  
“If only I could,” Vanitas mutters, but he doesn’t believe it. The shadow of Ven’s happiness and the reflection of Sora’s smile is the closest thing to warmth Vanitas will ever have.   
  
“But you can’t. And I _won’t_. We’re all the way down here; we might as well help each other. Right?”  
  
That outstretched hand is still hanging in the air. The pads of his fingers are worn rough from the hilt of a keyblade, but the skin in-between is pale and perfect and utterly unfit for this place. Shining blue eyes and sun-spotted nose. He’s a bright, dancing flame. Vanitas leans away from him. The urge to snuff him out is rising.

“What’s the matter?”  
  
If only he could smash that perfect little smile. Would it shatter like glass, or smolder like a candle wick? “I’m afraid,” Vanitas says, his voice dull and careful. Fighting whatever it is he can’t seem to keep a lid on anymore.   
  
Sora snorts. “You? Afraid? Of what?”  
  
“If I touch you, I might destroy you.”  
  
“Implying that you’d even be _able_ to.”  
  
“I could crush you right here. Pluck out your heart and eat your sorrows while I watch your light fade away.”  
  
“Heh. That doesn’t sound so bad,” Sora grins, thumbing his nose in that way Vanitas has seen a thousand times before. “But no thanks. I think I’ll hold onto my sorrows. They’re what give me room to grow.”  
  
He huffs. “Then I must be nothing but a seedling.”  
  
“Hearts are more than just anger and grief. I know you know that.”   
  
“Mine isn’t.”  
  
“But it can be.” Sora leans in. Those eyes are clear and blue. “We can all be more than what we were made to be. We can _do_ more.”  
  
Vanitas scoffs. “But isn’t that what landed you here in the first place?”  
  
He’s still smiling. Vanitas cannot understand it. “Maybe I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”  
  
“Lost in the darkness of sleep?”  
  
“Here. With you.”  
  
“I’m… just more darkness.”  
  
“You’re the only one I couldn’t save.”  
  
Vanitas chokes on his next words. They die on his tongue.  
  
Sora clenches a hand over his chest. “My heart lead me here for a reason. It has to be you.”  
  
He’s not worth that.  
  
“I couldn’t save you in the Keyblade Graveyard, but I’m here now. We’ll find a way back together.”  
  
“Just leave me here to disappear into your shadow,” Vanitas mutters. “It’s better that way.”  
  
“You said it yourself, we’re a part of each other. I can’t just leave you.”  
  
It would be better if he did. Better if he walked off into the abyss and never looked back. Left Vanitas here to dissolve into the black and finally find sleep.  
  
The darkness puddles at their feet. It rises and falls like the tide. Sora has his jaw set firm, glaring worriedly at the ground.  
  
Vanitas lifts his chin. “You’re afraid.”  
  
“I don’t need you to tell me,” Sora almost scowls.  
  
“You’re worried that you’ll be stuck here with me forever.”  
  
“That’s not my concern.” Is that… another smile? “I’m just worried that… I’ll make them sad.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“If I never come back, I’m sure Riku and Kairi will be upset. I don’t want that.” Now he’s grinning. It’s whole and content. How? “Actually, if that happened, Riku might be angry with me. He’s saved me so many times already, and here I am: doing reckless stunts like always.”  
  
Vanitas hums. “Riku… he’s that friend of yours. The one that’s immune to darkness.”  
  
Sora shrugs like he doesn’t know, but Vanitas has spent long enough observing him to know it’s a ruse. “Yeah. He’s great. He’s always had my back. No matter what.”  
  
“Does that include now?”  
  
He nods without hesitation. “If I really need him, he’ll come find me.”  
  
“So, do you need him?”  
  
“I don’t think so,” he grins. “I’ve got you, don’t I?”  
  
Vanitas coughs up a laugh. It’s a harsh, ugly sound. “How foolishly optimistic of you.”  
  
“Are you saying you can’t do it?”  
  
“Don’t assume I’ll help you,” Vanitas sneers. “Why would _I_ ever lead you back? Once we’re out of this abyss, it’s all over. Sleep is peace. For me, there’s nothing else out there but pain. I should be keeping you here instead.”  
  
“I don’t think you’ll do that.” Sora counters with a sneer of his own. “You remind me of Riku sometimes, ya know? You keep pushing me away like you think you know what’s good for me. Like… you think you’re not worthy of forgiveness, or love, or anything at all.”  
  
“You’re a fool. I could destroy you.”  
  
“But you won’t,” Sora says simply.  
  
There’s a sinking feeling in his chest. His defenses are slipping. Sora keeps piercing through all of his words as if they don’t matter. Just stop. Vanitas takes a step back, grinding his teeth down into nothing. “You don’t know anything.” The darkness bites up to his knees.  
  
“Vanitas.” Sora reaches for him, the worry clear on his face.  
  
He hates it. That’s not the expression he wanted. Where’s the anger and passion? Why can’t he just come at Vanitas with his blade raised and his heart unhinged? It would be so much easier. Vanitas clenches his fists and finds them seeping with darkness. It’s pouring from him. What would be unversed dissolve into the never-ending sea of black around them. “I’ll keep you here.”  
  
Sora sways in the rising water. “Do you even know where we are?”

That doesn’t matter. Just drown it. Drown them both. Whatever will end it. The smiling muscles are tugging on Vanitas’s face. It must be sick and demented. There’s no way it’s right. It’s not the same as Sora’s smile. Not from him. Not like this.  
  
The darkness crashes over their heads, and they’re swept away with the current.   
  
Sora thrashes about, fear encroaching upon his heart. But Vanitas breathes easy. These depths are not new to him. They’re comforting, in their own twisted way. They are the harbingers of sleep. Of nothingness. Of peace. He watches Sora fight against the tide, not too far away, and wonders why the boy bothers. Wouldn’t it be easier to just give in and let go?  
  
Why does he keep struggling? This is pathetic. He’s only going to make it worse. The harder he struggles, the stronger the grip. The dark will latch onto him with its claws and not let go.  
  
Sora gasps for breath, but there’s only darkness. His fighting grows weak. Vanitas hates it. He can’t stand it. What’s with this eruption of fire in his chest? He hasn’t felt anger this strong since… Ventus was nothing more than a corpse.  
  
Give _in_. Don’t give _up_ , you fool!  
  
Those words reverberate in his head. His chest. Sora twitches, and instantly stops struggling. His eyes open to the dark, and find Vanitas staring him down. He smiles.  
  
_How_? How can you look like that?  
  
Sora reaches for him, calm and confident. He’s not asking for a savior, merely a hand. From Vanitas?  
  
That warm, soft smile. Vanitas doesn’t understand. Sora laughs, he spies Vanitas’s confusion, and bubbles pour from the corners of his mouth. _Relief_ floods his eyes. He’s still reaching out for Vanitas, quiet through the dark.   
  
Vanitas can’t stop his gasp. Bubbles fly from between his own lips. There’s a pressure on his chest that he’s never noticed before. Now he’s reaching as well—for Sora—swimming through the dark to grasp that outstretched hand. To feel the weight of those fingers on his own. He could scrape the calluses smooth and snap his fragile bones. Pin him down and tear him open to bask in the light kept inside. The warmth. The _want_. Sora’s eyes are so clear and unafraid that Vanitas could dive right in and never be seen again.  
  
Hands connect, and there’s a spark. It squeezes Vanitas’s chest so tight he can’t breathe. Lungs scream for air. His heart twists in pain. He can’t place this feeling. What kind of unversed would this make? Something writhing and ugly. Something Sora would destroy without a thought. Without passion or anger. Nothing but disdain. Indifference. Vanitas’s fingers tighten over Sora’s hand. He hates it.  
  
He hates the delicate weight. Their identical calluses. The way Sora’s hand holds onto him like he has nothing to fear. Does he not realize what Vanitas is? How easy it would be to throw him into the abyss right now?  
  
Sora keeps smiling as Vanitas pulls him close. He’s so bright. Vanitas’s eyes are watering.  
  
Sora tilts his head. His smile vaguely falters. Soft lips shape Vanitas’s name, but there’s no sound in this darkness. Bubbles burst into nothing. Just a twisting—a longing in his chest.  
  
_Don’t let go_.  
  
The darkness swirls, and drops like a curtain around them. The floor rises up beneath their feet as a steady force. Gravity returns and quiets Vanitas’s dizziness. There’s only his feet anchored to the ground, Sora’s gentle smile in his sight, and hand wrapped firmly around his own. Just as quickly as it swallowed them up, it’s gone.   
  
Quiet. All the noises clamoring around Vanitas’s mind have been silenced, snuffed out like a weak candle flame. It’s all-encompassing and stunning and instant. Is he even breathing?   
  
Peace without sleep. Color and light.  
  
_Don’t let go_.  
  
“I won’t,” Sora murmurs. Fingers tighten like a vice. And that smile. Vanitas could curl up inside of it. “I’m right here.”  
  
He could squeeze until he bursts.  
  
“I told you. I’m not leaving without you.”  
  
Tear him open and slip beneath his skin.  
  
“We’ll find a way back together.”  
  
Breathe his air and taste him and feel him and claim him all for himself. Be a shadow stitched to his heels and _never let go_.  
  
“I won’t leave you here alone,” Sora reassures, and Vanitas suddenly remembers how to breathe. It’s deep and rattling in his unsteady chest. Sora firmly grasps his other hand as well. “Vanitas, do you think… we could help each other? You deserve this too.”  
  
“Deserve?” Half of that word is nothing but broken sounds.  
  
“I was hoping I’d find you at the end of all this. I keep thinking about what you said, about being close… But you wouldn’t be _there_. You don’t have to give up. You’re allowed to exist.” Vanitas’s mouth drops open. Sora is _still smiling_.  
  
He drags his tongue over chapped lips. It tastes salt. “Something like me shouldn’t exist.”  
  
“Says who?”  
  
Vanitas doesn’t have an answer for that.  
  
“You exist _now_ ,” Sora presses. “There must be a reason for that.”  
  
“What reason could I possibly have for existing?”  
  
A chuckle. “Right now? I’m kinda hoping it’s helping us get out of here.”  
  
Vanitas sharply exhales. “And after that?”  
  
“Isn’t that something you’re supposed to figure out for yourself?” he shrugs. “That’s part of the journey. I’ll… help you along the way, if you want.”  
  
Vanitas tugs him a little closer. He’s absolutely blinding. “My heart is in shambles. It’s not even enough to be called a heart. It’s just a scrap consumed by pain. What purpose does that serve?”  
  
“You’re strong,” Sora says.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Your heart is strong.” Again. “You were left with so little, but you’re still here. I bet you didn’t have anyone to help you along the way, either. You fought really hard to get here. Just think how strong you could be with a little support!”  
  
“What are you saying?”  
  
“Friends— _connections—_ are our power.”  
  
“I have two unbreakable chains. You and Ventus are tied to me.”  
  
“There are _two_ _sides_. We influence each other.”  
  
“You two define me.”  
  
“C’mon, Vanitas. Why’re you being so passive?” he jabs. “You chose what pieces you wanted to keep, didn’t you?”  
  
“I didn’t—I never _had a choice_ -”  
  
“They say the brightest light is locked within the deepest darkness.”  
  
“I’ll rip open your chest and swallow you whole.”  
  
Sora smirks. “Staying true to the legend, huh?”  
  
“Why aren’t you afraid?”  
  
“Because you’re here.”  
  
Vanitas seizes. He could curl in on himself. His voice is failing; arguments turned to dust. Sora keeps parrying him so effortlessly. What else can he say? Why won’t he understand how futile this is? Vanitas is not a creature to be saved. He never was. “Why won’t you just let it go?” he murmurs.  
  
Sora tugs on the link of their hands. “Well… for one, you told me not to.”   
  
“I…”  
  
“You said ‘Don’t let go.’”   
  
Those words came from him?

“I can’t ignore that. I told you I’d save you, and I meant it.”   
  
Vanitas chokes again. This voice. The spaces between the battle-worn calluses on his hands. They’re so warm and soft and everything Vanitas is not. “Don’t bother.”  
  
“You don’t have to change yourself. Darkness has a right to exist too. And if that’s your path, then walk it.”  
  
He’s decaying. Surely, he must be.  
  
“I can accept that. I don’t think we should just give up. _I_ don’t want to give up.”  
  
He feels the empty spaces collapsing in. He has to hold on. He pries his hands from Sora’s grasp and braces them on his shoulders. They’re small and unmoving. “Why are you trying so hard?”  
  
Sora shrugs. “You should know already. I just can’t look away when someone needs my help.”  
  
“I don’t _need—_ ”  
  
“Especially when I’m the only one who can.” Sora’s fingers glance over his wrists so carefully he can hardly feel it. “That’s _my_ purpose. It’s why I’m here.”  
  
Vanitas coughs up another ugly laugh. Shaky hands slip around Sora’s face. He can’t. He shouldn’t. Sora is too bright and soft. Vanitas will only destroy him. He’ll never be able to touch him or hold him without obliterating him.   
  
But his hands keep reaching. Fingertips breach the hairline, palms barely cupping Sora’s cheeks. Vanitas feels as though the chain wrapped around his throat is about to snap loose. He’s going to break across this threshold and lose control. Lose everything. Crush Sora’s skull with his bare hands and feel that softness dripping between his fingers.   
  
Sora keeps their eyes locked. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t tense. He’s not afraid at all.   
  
Careful. No strength. Nothing. Don’t break him.  
  
But he _wants to_. He wants to _see_ those eyes flood with pain and terror. Watch a familiar expression cross that face for once. Blur the lines. Creep into his skin. Break down, dissolve, and mix, until there’s nothing left of either of them. Let Sora’s bones break his skin, and his light can burn the dark away. There’s no pain here.  
  
“Vanitas,” Sora murmurs. His fingers dig into dark armor skin. “What are you thinking about?”  
  
Prying open his lips is a monumental effort. “How much I want to destroy you.”  
  
“Is that all?” he grins.  
  
“Your hands ripping me apart.”  
  
“I don’t want to do that.”  
  
“I want to know what it’s like,” Vanitas allows his hands to tighten, completely formed around Sora’s jawline. “Your power. I want to feel it.”  
  
“You don’t need me to beat you up for that.”   
  
“I do need you.”  
  
Sora’s expression flickers. He carefully swallows. “And I need you. We need each other. We’re a _part_ of each other.”  
  
“The other part of me…” It’s barely above a whisper. Of course. Vanitas steps forward. “Let’s join together.”  
  
Sora doesn’t answer for a moment or more. His smile is so sad. “I don’t want to do that, either.”  
  
“Why not!?”  
  
“Because I need you. _You_ , Vanitas. Not as a part of me, or Ven, but _you_. Just you.” Vanitas’s teeth lock in place. “I can tell… you’re still hurting. You know, you can rest if you want. I’ll take care of it. Just like before. But in the end, you’ll still be yourself. I can’t see you as anyone other than that.”  
  
It’s as if Sora just ripped all of his energy away. He can’t breathe. “I’m no one.”  
  
“You’re Vanitas,” Sora smiles, and the lid bursts open.  
  
Vanitas drops his head low. The entire abyss is swimming in his vision now. His breath comes out haggard, his voice fighting its way out of his throat as a pathetic sob. It fills him to the brim with loathing. Tears pour from his eyes in an unwelcome tide.  
  
Sora pulls Vanitas in, holds him against that warm chest. His clothes, his skin… they’re soft. Not crusted in darkness. Not steely like armor. “Hey,” he whispers, and Vanitas shudders. “I’ve got you.”  
  
Another sob bubbles up. Vanitas grabs a fistful of Sora’s jacket. He bites down on his lip until he tastes blood. This is weakness. He hates this. _Hates it!_  
  
“Just like you had me.” Arms wrap even tighter. Beneath their feet, the floor turns to dimly-colored glass. “Don’t let go, okay?”  
  
He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. Like a true shadow, he can only cling to Sora’s edges, and only lose him once his feet leave the ground. _Don’t leave me down here._ _I won’t let go._ Vanitas pulls a breath through the collapsing passages of his chest. “I won’t let go.”   
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> *flails arms* Vanitas does not know the difference between love and obsession. There’s no way he does. Anything pure and positive like that would get so twisted up, no one could recognize it. Fucking gremlin. ‘The Horror of Our Love,’ indeed.
> 
> I fully intended for this to be sovani, but it ended up kinda vague and more of a big character study on Vanitas. I always do this why am I like this- Uh. A /lot/ of experimentation happened as well… This is much more complicated than my Ventus study, but really, Vani is much more complicated than Ven. And I say that with nothing but love because I would fuckin’ die for Ventus.
> 
> Maybe one day I’ll do a character study on Sora and how he’s not allowed to be sad or upset, and how Rage Form may be indicative of this suppression reaching its limit. Or how he can only give so much before there’s nothing left. The unhealthy need to be The Helper. Or something.
> 
> … What was I doing again?
> 
> @VaniVeniVici


End file.
